Wicked Games
by Maverick Butterfly
Summary: Riddle me this: what do two billionaires, a cop, and a reporter have in common? Well, if Gotham’s newest villain gets his way, they’ll all be dead by end of the month.
1. August 31st, i

**Raiting:** This may change to Mature at some point, but at the moment I think there's nothing that hasn't been seen on TV or in a PG-13 movie.

**Warnings?:** This villain happens to be a murderer, so there is death, but no explicitly written scenes. There are gay characters if that somehow offends you, but no crazy sex scenes are being written(as far as we know...)and the characters that are gay in this story are gay in canon at one point or another.

* * *

**Shadow of the Bat: Wicked Games**

**Chapter One: **In which we introduce most of our cast, and our protagonists get ready for a party.

* * *

Nearly sixty million letters are sent to the dead every year. It's mostly clerical errors, it seems. A person kicks the bucket, buys the farm, (or whatever other clever little euphemism one wants to use to imply that the person's heart has stopped beating,) and the credit card companies and magazines forget to take note and just keep sending the junk mail.

It's a bit rarer still to send a letter to someone who is about to die, well not just a person who is about to die- people die all the time- it is, more specifically, far rarer to send a letter to a person telling them when, where and how he or she is about to die.

However, the lucky citizens of Gotham had been receiving such letters over the last fourteen or so months. Of course the letters are in some sort of code that the police force seemed to only manage to decipher _after_ the next victim was claimed. It was usually a person per month, sometimes more depending on how he was feeling. There seems to be absolutely no pattern connecting the victims. They have nothing at all in common, except the letters.

January was simple. An architect was found strangled inside his high-rise apartment. February was surprisingly full, a school teacher on the first, a stripper on the fourteenth, and on the twenty-ninth a lounge singer. March was on the fifteenth, and the letter-sender decided it would be quite clever to leave a copy of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar on the chest of a P.H.D. candidate from Gotham University. April was a particularly cruel month, and he sent out letters to five people. He took a break then, and nothing happened for three months until the wicked month of August reared its vicious head and took down a firefighter who was shot two times in the chest. Things continued on, like they always do in Gotham.

With the confusion of the Narrows incident, those pesky rumors about a crocodile man in the sewers, the Joker's rampage, Batman's murder of Gotham's White Knight, and whatever headline catching antics the idiot playboy Bruce Wayne had been up to, the mysterious letters had been overshadowed; it took a few tries before the news finally began to report on the killings. His time was coming, and he could wait patiently enough until it did…

* * *

_  
_"Are you done yet?" The question echoed in the spacious apartment along with clicking of computer keys.

"No, Katie, and asking me four more times in the next minute isn't going to change that." The tall auburn-haired woman let out a fairly theatrical sigh and collapsed on the couch. Kicking up her legs she stretched across the leather furniture, extending her arms behind her, stretching like a cat, and yawning.

"Now?" She asked and the other woman didn't even bother looking away from her computer screen to reply. She simply brushed back a curl behind her ear and continued typing.

"I've seen you write articles in like thirty minutes why is one taking so long?" Katherine Kane rolled on to her stomach to stare at her friend. Her long hair was pulled back into a low-maintenance ponytail and the Gotham socialite was dressed down in a pair of jeans and a tank top. Of course the jeans were designer and cost more than what some people made in a week and her shirt was handmade by some exclusive Italian tailor whose name she couldn't pronounce.

"Because, Katie, I don't _want_ to write this one. I've been getting shit assignments for the past two months. For some reason my stupid boss thinks because I've got ovaries I should be the one to write all the fluff pieces; it is absolutely ridiculous. I've only written two good articles this month."

Kate slipped off of the couch and moved to the kitchen. She had kicked her heels off earlier and shivered a little when her feet transferred from the plush carpet to the hardwood floor.

"Do you want anything, Vicki?" She called out back into the living room.

"New assignment. Couple million dollars. Car that doesn't break down. And to get laid." Victoria Vale called back from her position in front of her laptop. Kate shook her head and laughed grabbing desert from the fridge and returning to the living room.

"So, cake then?" Kate asked with a smile as she took a seat on the desk.

"Close substitute." Vicki replied. She saved the word document and closed her laptop before removing her glasses and rubbing at her eyes. Kate offered her a fork and Victoria took it with a half smirk and dug into the pastry.

"You know," Kate began innocently enough, "I could take care of at _least_ three of those things for you." She raised an eyebrow and smirked at the strawberry blonde in front of her.

"I'm not having sex with you Katherine."

"Aww, come on." Kate whined as she ate a portion of the cake in front of her. "It'd be fun. I promise." Vicki rolled her eyes and shook her head in slight disbelief.

"God, ever since you and Re-"

"Don't mention that name in front of me." Kate interrupted her tone gaining a very sharp edge.

"Me-ow." Vicki mumbled sarcastically, "_Someone_ is definitely-" she trailed off and her gray blue eyes flickered over to Kate before returning back to the cake, "you know what? No. I'm not going to start this because then you'll start complaining and throw a fit and possibly take away my cake and I haven't eaten all day." Victoria smirked up at her friend as she took another bite of the dessert.

"So, what's your next fluff piece?" Kate asked changing the subject as quickly as she could.

"Umm, fluff piece, fluff piece, let's see." She paused and tapped her chin thoughtfully, "On Bruce Wayne? Yeah, I think it's him. The gossip columnist is on maternity leave so they're making me fill in. I guess my ample cleavage makes me qualified to interview him. It'll give him something to stare at, at least." Kate laughed and Vicki joined in. When they had stopped she smiled at her friend a little bashfully and continued speaking. "I know, I know, unfair of me for making fun of the playboy, but have you ever seen him go out with someone who doesn't look like an anorexic model with breast implants?"

"Vicki. Bruce Wayne is gay."

"What? No. What are you talking about? He isn't, is he? Isn't he? He is? He isn't? Is he? No."

"No, it's true. Remember that ballerina he dated?"

"The Russian?"

"Yeah, well he wasn't the only Gotham socialite to date her…"

"What? No! You didn't, did you? You did! You didn't! You _did!_ When?"

"Remember when the entire ballet went with him on a cruise?"

"Yes, I had to write that stupid article."

"Well, that's when she and I met and…" Kate trailed off and smirked.

"You're such a skank, which is probably why I love you. But, what makes you think he's gay? Did you walk in on him and some waiter or something?"

"No!" Kate exclaimed with a laugh as she finished the last of the cake and took the silverware back to the kitchen and deposited it in the sink. Her maid would take care of it later.

"No, nothing that definite. I just know for sure that he never slept with her and, hmm, he, well, he _feels_ like he's hiding something, you know?" When she returned Vicki had migrated over to the couch; Katherine followed her move and took a seat beside her friend. "Like," she sighed and bit her lip looking deep in concentration, "like, uh, he seems like he's trying too hard to be the way he is. Does that make sense?"

"Not in the least." Vicki replied.

"Well, most people try to hide the fact they're shallow stupid jerks. They don't advertise it to the world."

"When you're as rich as Wayne is you're rather above regular social protocol and etiquette."

"No. It's not that, because I think he's faking it."

"…Why would you fake being a jerk?"

"Well, people usually pretended to _not_ be shallow they don't often pretended to be like that. _Unless_, they think that is how a normal person acts. I've seen the way he looks at women; I've been his date before. He looks at them the way he thinks guys should look at them- it's the same way I look at men. He's obviously not interested in them so he pretends to be, but you can only fake interest so much."

"You know, I never thought about it much, but you might be onto something."

"I know I'm right. I bet if you ask the majority of the girls he's," she lifted up her hands and made air quotes "'dated' he probably hasn't slept with any of them either." She drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on the left knee; she turned her head to glance over at Vicki.

"So, Vicki," Kate continued after a few moments of silence, "what's the plan for tonight?"

"Uuuh. Date. With… That Nigma fellow." Kate sighed, made an odd noise- that sounded somewhere between a kitten's mewl and a zombie groan- then rubbed her forehead against her denim clad knee before she finally spoke.

"What kind of a parent would name their child E. Nigma anyway?"

"One who hates their kid?" Vicki offered up as she turned to look at Kate.

"Whatever."

"It's not Eddie's real name. His real last name is… is something else."

"Did you forget it?" Kate asked trying to hold back a small laugh.

"No?" Vicki replied, stretching out the 'o' part of the word and not sounding at all convincing.

"Whatever, I still don't understand what you see in that.. that.." Kate stopped and narrowed her pretty green eyes "_toy maker_." She concluded disdainfully.

"He owns a toy company, Kate. Actually, he owns like four businesses. He's sweet, Katie. I haven't dated a nice guy in quite some time. So far he's been kind, charming, and thoughtful. It hasn't been all that long, but he's been good so far and he's taking me to some swanky fund raiser where the guests' outfits cost more than what each person contributes."

"Oh, I'm going to that one too," Kate paused and grinned, "with Mr. Wayne."

"Really?" Vicki seemed quite excited at the prospect. Perhaps she wasn't exactly ready to step into the nasty world of Gotham's high society without Kate there as he safety net.

"I thought he could use a beard. And I could use… the... uh... opposite of one."

"A razor?" Vicki offered and managed to hold a straight face for a few minutes before giggling.

"Shut up." Kate retorted picking up an expensive throw pillow and smacking Victoria in the face. "I wax."

"Don't be a c-" Kate smacked her again before Vicki had a chance to finish her sentence.

"Bad Vicki. Watch your mouth."

"Whatever, Katie, like you and Renee didn't swear at each other like sailors."

"I told you not to talk about her in front of me." Kate growled out, looking fiercely annoyed. Vicki flinched slightly; she hadn't expected her to get so angry.

"Calm down." Vicki said with a wry smile as she stood, "Let's go get you dressed and prettied up for your _allegedly_ gay date."

"Oh, please, that boy is so far in the closet he's in Narnia."

"This coming from the woman that's come out to a grand total of... me. Plus how ever many women you've hooked up with. Other than she-who-must-not-be-named," Vicki paused for a few seconds and pulled her bangs behind her ears, "most of them probably just thought you were doing that 'Ohmigod I'm so drunk I'm going to kiss a girl' thing that us straight girls do."

"I can't believe you just made a Harry Potter reference. You are a total nerd. By the way, you're lucky I love getting ready so much or else I totally would have kicked your ass for all of that."

"I know, Katie, I know."

"Right." Katherine Kane said, standing up and linking her arm with her friends. "Let's go shopping. I'll buy you a gorgeous dress for your date with the stupid ungrateful toymaker."

Vicki's only reply was a laugh as she patted her friend's shoulder.

* * *

Bruce Wayne hated parties; it was as simple as that. He hated surrounding himself with people so plastic they would melt if the lights got too hot. He hated pretending to be someone he wasn't. He hated treating women like they were just disposable, like if their breast weren't big enough or their waist wasn't small enough they weren't worth the time of day.

He was growing tired of the façade.

He was sick of drunken weeping phone calls at five in the morning berating him for being such a jerk and desperate half whispered pleas from him to tell them where they went wrong. He could sometimes honestly feel himself growing ill as he managed to choke out what someone like him would say. The 'I'm just not that interested in yous' and 'there's someone elses' and 'it's not you it's mes' often sounded as hollow as he felt.

He was dragging down the Wayne family name, but there was so much more at stake than reputation. A part of him hated knowing that so many people thought he was that kind of person, but a larger part of him knew it was the part he needed to play. Last year he had seen what knowing his secret could do to a person. The only way he could keep himself, and others, safe was by letting people believe he was so self-centered, idiotic, and pompous that there was absolutely no way he'd ever stick his neck on the line for _anyone_, let alone strangers on the streets of Gotham.

Bruce had learned to accept this as a necessary evil, but the person he trusted most in life didn't seem so willing to let him 'throw away his life,' as he liked to phrase it. Alfred Pennyworth stepped out from the elevator, looking as serious and ready for work as usual. He was glad to be home, he probably couldn't have stood living in that penthouse much longer. The manor was finally rebuilt, it had taken a bleeding year and a half, but it was done… if slightly under furnished. Unfortunately, being back home meant one thing: dragging his 'boss' out of the dark, wet caverns below practically every day to get some much needed sunlight.

He walked past the four glass cases that lead towards their very large and extremely expensive computer; the first one contained a dingy brown mask that looked like it had been sewn together from burlap sacks. The second contained an odd joker card from a playing deck. The third contained a stand holding a silver two headed coin with one side burnt and scorched. The last case contained what appeared to be a human tooth, though it was incredibly sharp and jagged.

Mementos of past events that shaped their lives; Alfred honestly saw no need to keep souvenirs from such tragedies.

"Master Wayne; you do realize that you have a party to attend in-" Alfred paused to check his watch. "Fifteen minutes, don't you?"

"I'm getting ready," Bruce replied lamely, sitting at the rather large computer. He did not bother to turn and face Alfred as he replied, which was a wise decision, because Bruce was only dressed in his black dress pants, nice socks(sans shoes), and a white dress shirt that had only been buttoned up halfway.

"Would it really hurt you so much to go out and actually have a decent time for once? Miss Kane is a rather charming girl, and who knows? You might even _like_ spending time with her." Alfred told him, the beginnings of hopeful smile forming on his lips.

"I'm not really in the market for friends right now, Alfred. Besides, you know how all these parties are; a bunch of people with too much money trying to make their existence seem all the more important by gossiping about everyone who isn't as" Bruce looked for the word, but the first few to come into mind were expletives Alfred might not appreciate, "fortunate as them." Bruce decided on, as he finished saving a file.

"Well, if I may speak frankly with you; I wasn't exactly thinking 'friend' in the case of Miss Kane."

"Alfred, please." Bruce replied, irritation growing in his voice.

"Is it so wrong that I'd like to see you meet a nice girl that you can spend time with and maybe even help you take your mind off of all this violence for a little while? I understand that losing Miss Dawes was painful for you, it was for all of us."

"It's not about Rachel, Alfred." Bruce said, finally turning to face Alfred as he replied this time. There was a long pause, as both of them stared stubbornly at each other. "-okay maybe part of it is." Bruce finally relented, turning back to the computer screen. "But not the way you think; after what happened to Rachel I realized that letting people get that close to me is dangerous. She'd be alive right now if she hadn't been so close."

"You don't know that, and do you really think she would have preferred things that way? She loved you, Master Wayne. You had your share of troubles, but she cared about you ever since you were children and to wish for it all to have never happened is dishonoring her memory." Alfred told him with a deep sigh. He stepped up behind Bruce, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Miss Dawes would want you to be happy, Master Wayne. Not living in regret over what might have been if things had been different." Bruce listened to Alfred silently, his face expressionless, but it was clear that he was deep in thought.

"She would want me to be happy, but none of that changes the fact that I _can't_ make the same mistake twice, Alfred. As long as Batman exists I can't afford to put someone else's life in danger just to make myself happy." Bruce finally replied, leaving Alfred with a rather solemn expression. "Besides, I'm saving people's lives, driving really fast cars, and being forced to constantly attend all these ridiculous parties. What would I need a girlfriend or a social life for?" he added with the faintest smirk.

"Well, if I have to answer that, Master Wayne, then I believe we need to have a long discussion about more than just getting you out of this cave." Alfred said with a smile of his own. He removed his hand from Bruce's shoulder and bent over to pick Bruce's tie off the floor. "Now, finish getting dressed or I'll invite Ms. Kane to the manor instead." Bruce sat there silently for a moment, before shutting down the computer and wordlessly grabbing the tie out of Alfred's hand.

He knew when he was beat.

* * *

You can skip this part if you want to, I don't mind. I swear. It's just stuff that kind of needs to be said. It talks about characters you may not recognize unless you are a HUGE nerd.

**Some of the reoccurring characters and their history in the comics: **All reoccurring characters in this story are from the DC universe and most are an amalgam of the multiple versions that have appeared through the years in various media(comic books, TV shows, movies, etc...)

**Katherine "Kate" Kane:** is a Gotham socialite who appeared in the 1950s. She was originally pretty lame, called Kathy, and was simply trying to get Batman to date her. She was reworked in 2006 to be a much more believable and entertaining character(though she may in fact just be a relative of the earlier 'Kathy' I'm not a hundred percent on that). I based the Kate in here on that Kate. She's not Batwoman yet, and won't be for a while. She's in her early twenties and still maturing and coming to terms with her sexuality, though she seems quite at ease with Vicki. She and Vicki met and became friends while they were both studying at Gotham University while Kate was an undergrad. Vicki was the grad student T.A. in her English class.

**Victoria "Vicki" Vale:** is a reporter who was more or less the Batman comics' version of Lois Lane. She was used heavily in the late 1940s to the early 1960s and has appeared every so often since then. She was featured in the 1989 _Batman _movie played by Kim Bassinger and also was used in Frank Miller's comics. But, Frank Miller hates women, so this Vicki is a mix of all the Vickis(except for his) with a good dash of Lois Lane's awesomeness. A few tongue-in-cheek references may be made to Frank Miller's portrayal of her, but he is obviously not the source she is most drawn from. She's been shown with red hair, blond hair, reddish blond hair, brownish red hair, light red hair, dark red hair, and some weird kind of orange... In this version she looks a bit like Amy Adams from _Enchanted_. Minus the princess dresses and flocks of small animals doing her bidding.

**Edward Nigma (birth name: Edward Nashton):** Uh... Well. If you don't know this guy you should go watch Batman: the Animated Series. He's one of my favorite villains. Of course this Riddler is a far more violent one than the cartoon version and less wacky than the Jim Carey version. He's influenced a lot by what mental and personality disorders he seems to have. He is sort of a mix of Dexter (from the Showtime TV series _Dexter)_ The Zodiac Killer, Ted Bundy, a touch of Barney Stinson form HIMYM, and there are a few I just can't remember right now. I'll add them when I think about it.

All of these characters can be found on Wikipedia or the DC database. :)

**

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Authors' note: **Please review. That would make us happy. We'll get our first real glimpse of Eddie Nigma next chapter. Then after that we get to see the swanky party! Batman most likely will not show up until chapter four, so hold on tight. We're getting there. :)

Signed reviews, or ones with emails, will be replied to with the utmost promptness that we are capable of. Oh, if someone wants to beta too, that would be pretty sweet.

Oh! And one more thing! Cara has been playing with the story traffic and has noticed there are people from outside of North America reading the stories so if you could be so kind as to say what city or country you're from that would be wicked awesome. It interests me who is actually reading these stories.


	2. August 31st, ii

Second chapter is up. It was a bit behind schedule because Barry got sick and then Cara got sick too. Which is a bit odd because they live like 2,000 miles apart. And Cara was out of it and accidentally posted the first chapter twice so here it is all second-y chapter and not first chapter-y. Some stuff on the characters was edited into the previous chapter, because we realized not everyone knows about obscure DC characters.

* * *

**Warnings?: **There's implied sexual stuff going on in the second half of the chapter if it makes you uncomfortable.

* * *

**Shadow of the Bat: Wicked Games**

**Chapter Two: **In which we meet the elusive Eddie Nigma.(E Nigma, get it?) and we learn why our intrepid reporter Vicki Vale is back in Gotham.**

* * *

**

"Hold still. And stop weeping. You're making your mascara run."

"Well, if you hadn't poked me in the eye maybe it wouldn't be watering."

"Don't be a baby. You should be immune to this by now; you're a woman."

"I don't like make-up." Despite this claim Vicki closed her eyes and allowed Kate to apply some eyeshadow.

"You are _such_ a lesbian."

"Wait, what?" Vicki's eyes shot open. Kate glared; she closed them again and Kate went back to doing the eyeshadow.

"You're totally butch. You're all like 'I'm awkward in dresses I don't wax or wear makeup, or paint my fingernails I have to be all hardcore reporter-y and not show off my _awesome _boobies-'"

"_What?_"

"You are _so_ gay."

"I, uh," Vicki blinked. It was at least a novelty to be called gay by a lesbian. "I don't think you're supposed to say that."

"Say what?"

"Gay. You know, in an insulting way."

"Why?"

"Well, isn't it rude? Aren't you just, you know, not supposed to do it?"

"I can do whatever the hell I want, Vicki, I'm rich _and _a minority."

"No one really knows that though."

"Whatever. I don't care all that much. Will you let me paint your nails or not?"

"Will they be done in time?"

"It's 7:45, there will be enough time for them to dry…"

"Well, alright," Vicki began hesitantly, "But make sure it looks good with the dress."

Vicki Vale didn't really like parties; it was as simple as that. She tended to feel uncomfortable around people unless she had a pen and notebook in hand. Often at these events she had an odd fear that she would say something that made her sound dumb, which was strange given the fact she tended to be better informed on almost every current event than the majority of the self-absorbed guests at the parties she had been frequenting since her return to Gotham nearly a year ago

She wasn't used to being done up and shoved into the spotlight, so she just sat back and let Kate take care of all that. Kate did her make up; Kate did her hair. Kate picked out and purchased her outfits. Vicki just needed to stand there, look pretty, and keep Kate company when their dates got too boring.

Sometime later, nails dried and painted a light blue, she was staring at herself in a full length mirror, barefoot in her new gown.

"I look weird," were the first words out of her mouth. Kate glanced over her shoulder to appraise Vicki with her sharp green eyes.

"You look sexy." She countered, before turning back to the mirror and sliding in her expensive earrings.

"No, I just look-" Vicki Vale, current reporter for the Gotham Gazette, graduate of Gotham University with a Master's Degree in mass communication and focus in journalism, was apparently at a loss for words, because after some time of staring at her reflection in the mirror she ended up mumbling, "_weird_." again.

She brushed her hands down the length of the silky material and cringed. The clock read 7:55; the party was supposed to start at 8:00. She rather hoped Eddie just wouldn't show up so she didn't have to go anymore.

"What _is_ your problem, Victoria?" Kate called back as she expertly applied her eyeliner.

"I'm sorry, Katie, I'm not used to this. You've known me for what, three years, four now? I'm used to being out in the field where the real action is. I spent most of my senior year of college in Columbia doing an honor's project on drug mules. I went to the Sudan in '05 to do a story on the aid workers risking their lives to help the displaced refugees. I've been shot at, almost stabbed, assaulted, snuck across borders, tossed in jail, detained, and, and, and, and- here I am standing in some expensive dress, that probably cost more than I made in the last two months. I'm writing fluff pieces and gossip columns for a news paper that I hate. I'm not supposed to _be_ here, Kate."

"Where are you supposed to be then?"

"Anywhere! Anywhere other than here. Back in Iraq doing a report on the future of the Kurdish nation, trekking through Kosovo and writing on the new country's prospects, I should have been in Georgia when Russia invaded not writing about what color signifies what about which celebrities" She looked down at the floor before closing her eyes. "What am I doing here?"

"I thought the answer was obvious; you're in love with me." Kate replied as she set down her makeup and turned her attention toward her hair, making sure it was just right.

"Are you even listening? This isn't _me_, Katherine. I'm serious. Why am I here?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?" Kate asked as she slid on her high heels.

"No. It's not. It's _really_ not. If you have answers I'd _love_ to hear them because it'd be news to me. I honestly have no idea what I'm doing anymore."

Katherine Kane stood up and walked over to her friend. Placing her hands on the other woman's shoulders she spoke with a maturity that the twenty-two year old rarely displayed.

"You're back here because you saw a story in this messed up little town you used to call home during your collegiate years. Gotham's hero became a villain and weird crimes and criminals, started sprouting up all over the place. You're here, Victoria, because you know when there is a story and you won't stop until you get it. You're going to find out who the man behind that mask is. I know you will."

"It's been eleven months. And I'm nowhere closer than I was when I first got here."

"It's just a matter of time. You know that." Vicki nodded slowly before glancing up at the clock. Kate followed her gaze. 8:08

"Your _Prince Charming_ isn't here yet." Kate said, the sarcasm was clear in her voice, but it softened when she continued, "Want me to escort you to the ball?" Kate would never know what Vicki's response would have been, because by the time the other woman opened her mouth to speak the doorbell rang. And Vicki's Prince Charming was standing there in a brilliantly tailored suit with a green tie and a charming smile, flowers in hand.

"I'm dreadfully sorry, but I lost track of time. You look positively breathtaking…" Edward apologized as he handed the bouquet to a blushing Vicki. After setting them in water and making a bit of small talk while she found her coat and put on her shoes, the two were ready to leave.

Ten minutes after Eddie's arrival Kate's "Prince Charming" showed up, chatting on his cellphone, and called her by the wrong name. It would be a very interesting night, to say the least.

* * *

Edward Nashton loved parties; it was as simple as that. He loved watching the interaction amongst the attendees. It was so gleefully exciting to be around people faking their smiles and niceties. He loved more than that watching the masks melt away under the pressure and the heat of the party. But, most of all he loved the attention. He loved having a pretty girl(or boy) or two, or three, fawning over him. But most of all, he loved the group hanging on his every word. He was like a conductor really, with just a line or two he could illicit laughs, or gasps, or outraged cries. It was so much fun; people were really too easy.

Eddie looked dashing tonight and he knew it. The only problem the man ever had when getting ready was often he would get distracted by his reflection and spend ten minutes or more admiring himself. Today he was running a bit late, so he kept the admiring down to a three minute contemplation about whether he should shave or not. He decided ultimately that the stubble simply added to his charm so he exited the bathroom, walked down the hallway, and went back into his bedroom. He passed by his alarm clock; it read 7:35.

"Eddie!" a voice called from his bed. He went straight toward his closet and ignored it.

"Eddie, baby, come back to bed."

He was debating between a black silk tie with subtle raised slanted lines running from the left to the right or a black silk tie with subtle raised slanted lines running from the right to the left. Of course there was always his favorite, his dark forest green tie, which brought out his eyes and emphasized the red in his hair. Tonight was a black tie event, so naturally he picked the green.

Windsor, half-Windsor, or shell knot? Windsor, of course.

"Eddie, why you getting all dressed up?"

When he finished the knot in his tie he glanced behind him and looked at the brunette spread naked across his dark green silk sheets.

"Oh," Eddie said glancing down at the woman with a slight look of displeasure flashing across his otherwise handsome features, "you are still here."

"Of course I am silly. Now, come back to bed."

"Sorry, but I am going out." Eddie moved to his dresser and opened a box on top of it and removed the custom made platinum question mark cufflinks from it.

"Oh. Where are we going?" She asked with a giggle as she rolled on to her stomach. She smiled up at him. He could see her in the reflection of the mirror that hung above his dresser. The clock was visible behind her reflecting a backwards 7:42. Mirrors were fun, classic really. Next time he should think about incorporating them into one of his little 'games.' He was sure the players would appreciate it.

"I m going out on a date; I do not know where you're going." Cufflinks now in place he slid on his black dinner jacket and looked down at the woman. She really couldn't have been more than nineteen, maybe twenty.

"But, you drove me. How, uh how am I supposed to get home?" Her voice was growing weaker and strained.

He took his wallet off of the top of the dresser and pulled out a few bills. He tossed the money down on the bed next to her.

"Take a taxi or something."

"Eddie," she whispered her large eyes filling with tears, "Eddie. You, you, you _can't_ be serious."

He just stared at her, his face impassive.

"Eddie. Eddie, _please_."

The tears spilled forth and her mascara began to run. She picked up the money as she slid on her rumpled dress. She looked so pathetic it was really starting to get to Eddie...

He smiled.

Well, he could always be a little late. It's not like he had to get _all _the way undressed. Hopefully she wouldn't get any of her makeup on the pillows. He planned on brining that reporter back here tonight.

When her friends saw the bruises and scratches later that night she just smiled awkwardly, looked a tad bit uncomfortable, and didn't know what to say. Things were easier for Eddie; he just cleaned the blood out from under his fingernails before he showed up to Vicki's friend's door with flowers in hand and an apology on his handsome lips because he was running _ever_ so late.

* * *

Well, that was chapter two. Chapter 3 will be up as soon as we finish it. Edward and Bruce shall meet and we finally get to see that swanky party. Please review! Kthnx~!


	3. August 31st, iii

**A/N:**Sorry! Barry and I haven't talked to each other in like three months! We're talking again now, so that's good. He started working and stuff while still going to school, so he didn't have enough time. And I... I was busy sleeping and trying to avoid going to class. Now, because midterms and finals are not for some time, we were able to write some stuff! We're working on chapter four as we speak.. or as I type.. as you read? (unless you read this when chapter four is already up, okay yeah I hope you just skip this and go to the real story.)

Don't worry. We'll finish this story, eventually. I'll see to it. Just subscribe to author or story alert and you'll learn when we update! So, what this chapter lacks in promptness we think (or hope) it makes up for in length and character development.

**Warnings: **Some off-color jokes by Mr. Wayne.

* * *

**Shadow of the Bat: Wicked Games**

**Chapter Three: **In which we finally attend the much talked about party, and Kate and Bruce have an awkward discussion.

* * *

"They're calling him Jack the Riddler! Can you believe it?"

"How do they know it's a man?"

"Oh, forensics or some such," the aging socialite waved off with a gloved hand. "Something about height and weight and angle of incidence."

"Jack the Riddler, _really_? What a _dreadful_ name."

"Hey!" Vicki piped in defensively, "I coined that name."

"Honestly though?" a tall blonde date of _someone_ began, "Jack the _Riddler?_ It's like some, cheesy and campy _terrible_ pun!"

"What was I supposed to call him?" Vicki retorted as she crossed her arms over her chest, "The Clue Killer? The Questioner? That hardly sells papers."

"Well, I for one," Kate began with a theatrical wave of her arm, "think it's absolutely _brilliant_."

"Brilliant?" Vicki asked, her eyebrow arched, "I don't think you should go _that _far."

"No! It totally is Vicki. Just ask Eddie!"

All eyes turned to the handsome Edward Nigma, who had been rather quiet after initially brining up the subject of Gotham's latest headline-catching criminal.

"Yeah, Eddie," the blonde who had been so critical before said, "what do you think of the name?"

"I would have to agree with Kate and Vicki on this one Cheryl-"

"It's _Shannon."_

"-My apologies. But, this guy has been around for, what a year now?"

"A year and a half," Vicki corrected, "Well, fourteen months of documented activity, but I've been doing some research and there are some murders back months before the police finally picked up on it, that might, just _might, _be connected, but, uh, yeah..." Vicki trailed of when some of the party goers were beginning to look at her strangely.

"Well, he has been around for more than a year and no one has caught him yet. They hardly even have any real evidence, right? He has just swooped in and managed to kill quite a few people."

"Well, he's no _Joker." _The oldest socialite replied. She had her arm around a dark-haired man half her age. "Thank _God_."

"Yeah," the blonde replied sliding her arm around the waist of some bored looking young man who was busy texting on his cellphone, "the Batman hasn't done anything at all. Maybe they don't see him as a threat."

"He is not some crazed terrorists." Eddie said, a bit too quickly, "I mean, this guy is obviously intelligent, maybe even a genius. _Probably_ a genius. He sure as hell has been outsmarting the GCPD. Not that _that_ has to be all the difficult, considering most of the cops these days."

This statement elicited a few laughs, a few exasperated 'Eddies,' an uncomfortable look from Katherine, and an unexpected glare from Bruce Wayne.

"All I am saying," Eddie continued with a flourish of his hand, which caused the light to catch and flicker off of his cufflinks, "is that he is probably one for the history books, like The Ripper was. He deserves a name to match."

"Deserves?" Wayne asked with a raised eyebrow.

Eddie laughed and shook his head, his bright green eyes looking more than a bit amused, "I am sorry, Brucie, sometimes I get so excited I tend to misspeak. You are right though, deserves is not the quite the word I want, is it? I meant more like, he _should_, is all."

Bruce turned towards Vicki, flashing her a large grin and looking her over with an apprising glance, "In my opinion, that's not a bad name, Miss Vale. My only real problem with it is I'm sure it's giving this guy's already inflated ego an extra boost. I mean, being compared to an infamous serial killer like Jack the Ripper? It certainly gives him enough fantasies to jack off too. Those crazies idolize him."

Kate practically choked on her drink.

Vicki covered her mouth to stifle the giggle that was urging to break through, even though a large part of her was feeling indignant at the statement, and a larger part was trying to figure out how much the playboy had already had to drink so early in the night.

"Dear me…" the older socialite mumbled to her too-young date.

"Bruce!" Kate finally managed after she found her voice, "Masturbation jokes at charity functions are not okay!"

"It's a party!" He called out, throwing an arm around Kate's thin shoulders and pulling her against him. "Lighten up!"

Edward was quiet for a bit, his green eyes were hard for a few seconds before melting back into a quiet amusement, "I would refrain from saying 'the crazies love' Jack the Ripper, as you so _eloquently _phrased it, but he is a rather fascinating individual. Even you have to admit that, Brucie."

"Fascinating? Eddie, listen to me, man. He killed five hookers in London during the 1800s. That's hardly any work. Hell! I've met congressmen who've snuffed more hookers in a _weekend _than that guy did in his entire career." Bruce's arm was still wrapped around his date's shoulders and his hold tightened a bit. Kate was looking a bit shocked and stared at Vicki with a 'help me?' look in her green eyes.

"Right!" Vicki began clapping her hands together, "How about that local sports team?"

"You mean the Gotham Knights?" The tall blonde asked, eyeing Vicki with a look that didn't bother to hide its disdain.

"You suck at changing the subject, Vik." Kate mumbled, sliding out of Bruce's grip and signaling a waiter for another drink.

"No." Eddie began, "No. We should not change the subject. I would very much like to further explore this subject with Brucie, here."

"Really?" Bruce asked raising an eyebrow and looking a little uncomfortable, "you want to kill hookers with me? Because, I've got some priors in a few states and that could be _really_ awkward if we got caught..."

"That is not what I meant and you know it!" Eddie snapped. The group looked around at each other, slightly uncomfortable and unsure what to do. Eddie had never sounded that angry before.

"Woah, calm down Eddie-boy. Have yourself another drink or two." Wayne replied with a smirk.

"Just ignore him Eddie," the older woman replied, "he's drunk."

Eddie let out a small laugh, "I know. Sorry, I am sorry. I am just _not_ used to talking to people this dense." He said with a grin, as an apology to the rest of the group.

"Hey! I went to Princeton! I may have _bought _my way in, but I still got in."

Vicki bit back another giggle and managed to disguise it as a cough.

"It is just, _Mr. Wayne_," Eddie began, his voice was once again smooth and calm and his lips were spread in a perfectly hollow grin, "I get the distinct impression that you do not like me."

"Nonsense Eddie! Everyone loves you!" A neighboring, and already quite possibly drunker-than-Brucie-Wayne trust fund baby called out as he attached himself to Eddie for support.

Edward simply glanced out of the corner of his eyes distastefully at the drunk who grinned at him before swaggering off to find more expensive champagne to guzzle down without tasting it. Eddie brushed his shoulder off and took the opportunity to tilt his head and look up at Bruce Wayne, who was a good two or three inches taller than him.

"Oh don't worry, Eddie, I don't dislike you. I just find you immensely irritating if I'm around you too long. But I don't _dis_like you, yet. I don't have enough of a reason to, _yet_."

As a waiter passed by Eddie pulled a glass from the tray, and took a long sip of it, his eyes not leaving Bruce's. He smirked.

His unwavering gaze would usually make most men feel uncomfortable, but it was becoming clearer that Bruce Wayne was _not _most men_. _"And he has a sense of humor! Charming, as always, Mr. Wayne."

"So I've heard." Bruce's smirk rivaled Eddie's.

"So, I have to say, I am intrigued. What is it about me you find so irritating? Is it that I refrain from fawning over you to get on page three of some gossip rag like the rest of these sycophants do?"

"Oh no, not at all!" Wayne continued with a grin, "See, normally that would make me like you, since those are the people I enjoy hanging out with most. The ones who don't care have nothing to lose, so they're _much_ more fun," he explained, sloshing some of his drink when he waved his arm for emphasis.

"So no, Eddie, it's not that. It's that you have somehow managed to be even _more_ fake than most of the people here." He waved his arm about again, and the people who had attended Bruce's thirtieth birthday party held their breath and hoped the drunken billionaire would make no repeat performances tonight.

"Oh, not in the same way though; you aren't fake in the sense that you've used money to make yourself seem better or anything. It's much different than that, actually. It's that you're hollow. Completely hollow." Bruce paused and let his statement hang in the air.

No one spoke. Vicki looked at Katie to see what she should do; Katie looked just as unsure.

"See, you're smart. We all get that. You're_ probably_ smarter than anyone here, and you know it. You're also a very good actor. You know how to get people to do what you want, which is evidence by you attending this… wonderful fundraiser, and it's also probably how you're going to get in Miss Vale's pants tonight."

Vicki had a look of horror and annoyance, and downright anger take over her pretty features.

"Because of your high IQ," Wayne continued, ignoring Vicki's outrage, "you have come to some grand conclusion that it makes you superior to everyone else, and therefore gives you the right to step on and use whoever the hell you want. And, _sure_, most of them probably don't even know you're doing it, like Vale, here. And that, Eddie, is why I find you irritating." Bruce paused, and took a small sip of his drink, which Vicki idly realized very well might have been his first of the night. "Just F-Y-I." He concluded with a small shrug.

There was a flash in Edward's eyes that lasted just long enough for Bruce, and Bruce alone, to see. Edward, for once, looked genuinely shocked and caught off guard. But, then he laughed and took a sip of his own drink.

The rest of the group breathed a sigh of relief when they realized Eddie was taking Brucie's rather drunken rant lightly.

"I like you Wayne!" He called out, as he took a step forward and clapped him on the back. When he was close enough he leaned in to whisper, "I really do, Bruce. Because, you are faking it too." And then he removed his hand and gave him a quick wink, before offering his arm to Vicki to lead her to the dance floor.

Vicki, despite herself, realized she kept glancing over her shoulder to look back at Bruce Wayne.

* * *

The group had dispersed after Eddie had left with Vicki. The blonde society-climber had gone off to talk with some richer men, and her date had taken a seat at a table to continue texting on his phone and occasionally giggling. The older socialite had snuck off with her barely-legal tall, dark, and a handsome escort to some empty hallway.

Wayne had, to no one's surprise, gone straight to the bar. In fact, he had reached over and poured himself his own drink. Katherine followed behind him and placed a hand on his elbow.

"Let's get you home, Bruce. I think you've had enough to drink." Kate said.

"Wrong, Miss Kane. I haven't had _nearly _enough to deal with the people that come to these things." He took a sip of his drink, and the bartender gave him a very confused look for a second, before Wayne slapped a fifty dollar bill on the counter as a tip.

"Come one, Bruce, I'll drive you back home and then take a cab. You're in no condition to drive right now."

"You could just stay the night at my place." Bruce offered as he took another sip.

"Bruce I-" Kate began, but was interrupted when Bruce kept talking.

"Hell, I'd love to get out of this miserable place, but let's go out to the balcony for a bit."

"Why not just go now?"

"Because Alfred will kill me if I come home before ten." Katie gave him a look, and instantly the playboy was back, "His only time off is when I'm out on nights like this, so he hates it when I get so dreadfully bored I have to call it an early night. I'm sure you understand, Miss Kane."

"How come you keep calling me Miss Kane?"

"Because I'm always tempted to call you 'Candy,' which I'm sure, is a joke you've already heard far too many times in your life, or I'm going to call you Kathy. Neither is right, so I settled on 'Miss.'"

"Kathy's my aunt." Katie commented.

"I know. She was nice. Used to come over and visit even after my parents died. She dragged you a couple of times if I remember correctly. She was good friends with my mom." Bruce slid a hand on her lower back and led her out of the party onto the cool balcony. Gotham city glittered under the starlight.

Bruce leaned against the railing to face her.

"Did you ever go to therapy?" she asked standing in front of him, with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Therapy?" Bruce laughed, taking another drink.

"Yes."

"And why would I need therapy?"

"Stop it, Bruce. Just, just _stop_ it."

"Stop what?"

"Acting like this."

"Who says I'm acting?"

"This isn't the real you! You're just acting like this because you think this is what everyone expects. You're better than this."

Bruce laughed again, shook his head, and took another drink.

"Wrong again, Miss Kane. I'm really not."

"I remember you. Before you left. I was young, but I still remember when my aunt took me to visit you and Alfred. You were different. I was probably only ten or eleven, but I remember. You weren't like _this_. You were quiet, and kind. Withdrawn and sad, maybe, and pretty sullen, but you were brilliant. And that stunt you pulled when you came back? You took control of your company right out from all those men, You're not an idiot, Bruce. So why are you doing this?"

Bruce stared at his drink, unable or unwilling to look at Katherine in that moment.

It was about that moment when he finally let what Alfred had said earlier sink in. Katherine Kane _was _a beautiful woman; she had already seen through his playboy mask back to who he had been ten years ago when she remembered him. And though she was a quite a bit younger than him, and she was certainly not Rachel, but maybe, just maybe, he could be happy for a little bit. If only just for tonight.

Maybe he could be himself. Drop the Brucie mask entirely and be himself in front of someone other than Alfred.

Bruce dropped his glass and it shattered on the ground. Taking two large strides towards her he let his now free hand slide around her waist to pull her against him and let the other hand rest against the side of her face. He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers.

Immediately she pushed herself away from him with a dazed look in her eyes.

"What the _hell _are you doing?"

"…I thought that was rather obvious."

"But, but you're _gay._"

Bruce blinked, blinked again, and finally found the question that perfectly summed up what he was feeling.

"What?"

"I… I thought you were gay. Aren't you?"

"I, uh, I… _What_?" Shock slid across Bruce's features and stayed there for two or three seconds before he blinked. "No, I'm not. What? Why would you think that?"

"Look, it was, it was, just- Um. Nothing. Never mind. Sorry, let's just um, let's drop it, okay?"

"What made you think I was gay? Is it something I'm doing?" Bruce looked genuinely interested now and Katherine thought that was a bit odd, but thought it was even _odder_ that Bruce had tried to kiss her seconds ago and seemed to have been invested in it.

"It's nothing. Stupid things. Can we drop it, please? I'm sorry. I just thought you were gay."

"I'm not angry, Kate. Just curious." If there was some crack in his playboy façade, some variable he hadn't accounted for, it would be best to fix it. Or to at least be aware of it so that he was able to factor it back into the equation.

"Well, I know you didn't... I know you didn't _do _anything Natascha." Kate shivered slightly in the cold air; Bruce removed his tuxedo jacket without a word and slid it over her shoulders before returning to lean against the railing.

"The ballerina?" he asked.

"Yes. The ballerina. Who else would I be talking about?"

"There are a lot of Nataschas. It's a popular name in Eastern Europe, and most of the models I date are from there. But, you're right. I didn't have sex with her. I had my reasons." With that Bruce looked away from Kate and turned around to rest his elbows on the railing and stare out at Gotham's night skyline.

"But there are more." Kate pressed on, "There are a lot more girls you never touched. They talk about it sometimes. They think they weren't good enough for you. But that's not it at all, is it?"

"You're really interested in my personal life, aren't you Kitty?"

Kate stood still for a long time, holding Bruce's tuxedo jacket tight against her body, and spent a good six seconds trying to find her voice.

"You haven't called me that since I was twelve."

"You were annoying as hell."

"You're just saying that because Alfred made you hang out with a ten year old during your spring break freshman year of college."

Bruce snorted-which sounded suspiciously like a laugh-but didn't say anything.

"What were they, Bruce?"

"What?"

"Your reasons."

Bruce let out a long breath. She had already seen enough that it wasn't worth lying. An edited version of the truth was probably his best option.

"Well, I can give you two reasons right now, if you really are that interested. One of them being, contrary to popular belief, I do my best not to fuck people I hardly know. It gets, well, it gets _complicated._" He decided it was probably best to leave it at that instead of describing how at that very moment most of his upper body was one large bruise and that he had new fresh scars on his legs and healing cuts across his chest and arms.

"Also," he continued, "I have a conscience, but you _better _not tell your reporter friend about that that. I don't want you two cleaning up my sullied image. That would be all bad. And the other one is-"

Bruce paused for a long time. He closed his eyes. He took two long breaths and opened his eyes again to stare out at Gotham laid bare before him.

"I did take her out, Natashca that is, a few times. But, I was interested in someone else at the time who didn't quite reciprocate because of poor timing on my part."

"Who was it?"

Bruce didn't speak for some time.

"I think that was enough personal information for one night, Kitty."

"Come on, Bruce. You can trust me. We used to be friends! Or, you used to tolerate me asking you questions and swimming in your pool."

Bruce glanced over at Kate and offered her a half smile.

"Just one more thing then, for old time's sake. I'm going to let you in on a secret here, Kitty. The people I'm interested in? They're often too smart to sleep with me." " He let that sentence hang in the air like cigarette smoke or rolling fog, before he spoke again.

"Now, would you like me to take you home? Or would you prefer to salvage what part of the night I haven't ruined for you?"

"I think I'd like to go home."

"I'll get you your coat. We can meet at the entrance." Kate nodded and watched Bruce as he pushed off of the railing and walked back into the party.

She turned her head away from the people inside and looked out at Gotham; she truly seemed beautiful at night despite all the crimes that, statistically speaking, had to be occurring in that very moment. If only there was some way to save her.

God, Kate would do anything.

There was a new evil hurting Gotham, another insane criminal was trying to tear the city apart from the inside.

Gotham was her home, and Kate wished there was more she could do to protect her.

Kate let her mind wander for a few moments as she tried to piece together everything that had happened tonight. She thought about the way Vicki had looked in that new blue dress, the way Bruce and Eddie had acted, how odd it was to see the Bruce from her hazy childhood memories reappear unexpectedly, and most of all she thought about the gleam of something she couldn't place that had flashed in Eddie's eyes when he spoke about Gotham's new villain.

One of the oddest things of the night though, was that Bruce's kiss had tasted like ginger ale.

* * *

**A/N: **So, what happens next you may ask? (Or you may not. I can't tell. I'm not psychic.)

I think Batman finally makes a freakin' appearance. And Commissioner Gordon should as well. And maybe our villain does? We'll have to wait and see. (Hopefully that update won't take as long as this one did. But seriously, we're going to _finish this_. Because we already have the story after this one plotted out and the one after that…)

So, feel free to leave some reviews and tell us what you think. Are we doing well? Are we doing not-so-well? Anything we need to improve on? Any and all comments are welcome. :) So, yes. please review.


	4. September 1st, i

Heeeeey guys. So. It's been a while. A lot of crappy personal things happened, but we're still here. And now we've got this for you. To make up for talking too long, it's a super long chapter with tons of action sequences and stuff! Enjoy. And please review. Please?? Kthnx. =D

**Warnings: **Lots of fighting. Woo! But, what can you expect when Batman finally makes an appearance?

* * *

**Shadow of the Bat: Wicked Games  
**  
**Chapter Four: **In which Vicki gets a ride home and Batman meets another of Gotham's crazies.

* * *

Vicki looked down at her cellphone; there was a new message from Kate and the analog clock that told her it was a little after twelve.

"Rabbit rabbit, white rabbit," she mumbled to herself. Eddie glanced over at her across the table.

"Hrm? What was that, dear?" Vicki didn't like being called 'dear'.

"Nothing. Uh, it's just this superstition thing I learned in the U.K. You're supposed to say it at the beginning of the month. To bring good luck for the month. Technically, you're supposed to say it when you wake up, but I'll probably be fine, right?" She offered him an awkward smile

"I didn't realize you were a suppositious person." Eddie commented. He had removed his jacket and left it on the chair next to him. The party was still going fairly strong even though the two richest Gotham natives had left almost two hours ago. Unable to stand in heels much longer, Vicki had asked to go sit down at one of the tables were they had eaten earlier.

Kate had continued to text her throughout the night, sending little things like quotes from movies and other little pop culture references that made Vicki smirk when she read them discreetly under the table.

This one read_,_**_ [Oh my dearest sweetumpops, I am lost without your like... warm embrace or something equally squishy and romantic, which means: Come home. Need to talk. Kthnx._]** Vicki smirked again, and Eddie glanced over at her.

Oh, that was right, he had been talking. The full keyboard sure made texting easier, she rarely had to look at the screen now.

"Oh. I'm not, not really. Just something I do for fun whenever I can remember. Which isn't very often." She sent her text message, but kept her eyes focused on Eddie. "Might explain my poor luck this last year."

"Right." He replied obviously not interested but, he flashed a charming smile which made everything alright, "would you like to get out of here?"

"Yes, please." Vicki replied, perhaps a bit too hastily as she stood up and grabbed her purse from the table.

* * *

"I got it, Boss." A lanky man with a black mask over his head announced, as he leaned over a padlock that has just been smashed off.

"Well, I guess you're not as useless as I thought. Let's go." The second voice was deep and intimidating, thick with an Italian accent. The thin man opened the door leading into the warehouse then quickly began to dart around the dozens of wooden crates stacked inside. With a few small clicks, flashlights cut through the pitch black room, whizzing around and trying to find anything special.

"Look at this! Statues, vases, all sorts of stuff. Aw man, if we take all this stuff, we'll be set for life," the skinny crook said happily, getting ready to wedge his crowbar under one of the crates' lids.

"Hold it, ya' idiot. We ain't here for that."

"But, but… huh?"

"Why? Why do I always manage ta' find the dumbest jack asses in Gotham? Look stupid, why do ya think we brought such a small bag? If we take what's in the back, we ain't gonna need half this crap." The thin crook lowered his head, like a scolded dog and simply waited for his next order. The small group moved quietly through the darkness, until they reached the back room. It was a simple looking office, Spartan-like, 'decorated' with the bare essentials.

"Look, it's over there!" Another voice exclaimed, this one was much lighter, somewhat scratchier. He pointed his flashlight at a simple painting hanging on the wall. It was standard as far as office paintings went, some landscape or another with sailboats off in the distance.

"Well good for you, ya want a medal or somethin'? Now shut your face and get it open for Christ's sake." The thin crook ran over to the painting and pulled it off, revealing a safe built into the wall. He put his hands together cracking the knuckles in preparation; finally he took out a stethoscope and placed it against the safe. He began. Three other men stood back and waited. They'd been relegated to watching the entrance for any sign of the cops- or worse…

"This is a simple one, boss. It'll only take a couple min-" His sentence was cut off with the distinct sound of something hard hitting metal, as his head was slammed against the safe. He slid to the floor, unconscious, as something moved through the darkness beside him. The crew shined their flashlights just in time to see a black cloak slip into the darkness of the connecting hallway.

"Well, don't just stand there, ya idiots! Shoot the bastard!" The boss yelled in frustration. The three goons stood in front of the doorway and started firing into the pitch black hallway; the door behind them opened and one of the robbers made his escape. Too frightened to think, all three men kept their fingers on the triggers and continued to let the bullets fly down the hallway. They continued to waste their ammo, as the light from the doorway revealed a black figure rising up behind them its pointed ears the only defining feature.

The "or worse" was here.

Suddenly, Batman grabbed onto the thug on the left, slamming his knee into the man's ribs before putting an open hand on his face and slamming the back of his head into the wall behind him. He left a dent. Some of the drywall and plaster rained down on to the newly unconscious man.

Batman glanced around just in time to see the other two thieves turning to aim their weapons at him, but he played this game too many times to not have known this was coming.

He spun around, slamming the back of his fist across the next robber's face, and then ramming his own body into him. He grabbed onto his arms as the gun began firing wildly. Too stupid and too scared, he didn't let go of the trigger. The other thug aimed his weapon at them; the look in his eyes suggested he wasn't all too concerned for his partner's wellbeing.

Batman twisted their bodies around, and aimed the man's machine gun low as it continued to fire, and sent a few rounds into his partner's legs. The thug screamed in pain and fell to the floor, as Batman aimed the first thug's gun up at the ceiling and then over his head to his back.. He groaned in pain as he was forced into the stretched position and dropped his gun to the floor, just before Batman rammed him head first into the wall.

The thug didn't go down immediately. He managed to turn his body around and swing an untrained punch at his attacker's face, which didn't really do much at all. Except, fracture the knuckle in his right pinky.

Batman hadn't expected him to still be standing after the attack he just pulled, but it was no matter as he simply tossed the robber to the floor face first. He stomped on the back of his head, driving it into the floor and knocking him unconscious.

Batman surveyed the scene, and casually began to step out of the room. The robber who had been shot was still on the floor, trying desperately to reach his gun, until he received a swift kick across the jaw. It did two things: send him into a deep sleep and give him one hell of a headache when he awoke hours later.

A nasally whine could be heard echoing through the now quiet room as the man who had fled the office tried desperately to get out of the building. All the exits were either blocked off or sealed. Suddenly the man stopped his scurrying as a pair of glowing white eyes appeared above him from atop one of the many rows of metal shelves that filled the room. Batman watched him casually through his night vision lenses, rather confused about the whole situation. The men he took out were obviously hired help; none of them had the brains to pull this off. So, that just left this man, approximately early forties, balding gray hair, and obviously not prepared for this kind of situation. Could this really be the brain behind this fiasco?

Batman had seen stranger things.

"Please, don't hurt me! I give up!" The man yelled, cowering in the corner like a scared child.

"All of this was your idea?" Batman asked, voice deep and intimidating.

"No! It wasn't my idea! I swear! I was just following orders." The man pleaded quickly in his shrill voice, begging Batman for leniency. Judging by the infliction in his voice, he seemed to be telling the truth, but that still left one question; who was in charge of this group?

"Turn around." Batman ordered, determined to get to the bottom of this. There was a pause, as the man simply stayed facing the corner.

"Well, you heard him, dumb ass; turn around." Another voice suddenly said. This voice was deeper, had more authority, and above all, was Italian. The man finally started to turn around, and when he did, Batman's hidden eyes widened in utter disbelief. This had to be some sort of joke, a trick, anything but real.

The older man looked petrified. His pale watery blue eyes were hidden slightly behind his large round glasses. He certainly did not look like the type willing to hire large ex-cons to break into a warehouse, let alone accompany them. Although that wasn't what shocked Batman, instead it was the little wooden puppet the man held in his arms. It was dressed up in a nice little suit, with a carved scowl for a face, and a long 'scar' running down the right side. It also had an Uzi submachine gun with a fixed wooden stock in its arms that was real enough.

And, all his years of training had really not prepared him for what he was forced to say next,  
"Put the doll down and put your hands up." Batman ordered. This city was getting weirder by the day.

"Hey! Who you callin' a doll, ya freak!" The deeper voice said as the dummy's mouth moved. "Besides, I'm the brains of this outfit, so stop talking to the dumb ass and keep your eyes down here!"

"Mr. Scarface, sir?" The pudgy man continued in his wavering high voice, "I don't think it's such a good idea to provoke him. Uhm, er, uh, maybe we should just-"

"Did I ask your opinion? Now shut the hell up and do as I say!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Scarface, sir, sorry-"

Batman watched this 'argument' in disbelief. Was this all some kind of ploy to plead insanity on the off chance of being captured? Or some kind of gimmick? Or did this man truly believe that doll was a criminal mastermind? Whatever it was, he didn't have time for all these games.

"I said, put the doll down. Now." Batman said, quickly losing his patience.

"Oh, sure thing. He'll put me down right…NOW!" Suddenly the lights in the warehouse flashed on, the sudden light combined with the night vision caused Batman to recoil and cover his face while he made the lenses slide back up into his cowl. 'He barely had time to react as 'Scarface' fired the Uzi at him, one of the bullets catching Batman in his shoulder. The next thing he knew he was falling towards the hard floor.

* * *

Eddie opened the door of the car for her and closed it after she had stepped in. The smell of the leather seats always gave her a headache. She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.

"So," Eddie began, placing the key in the ignition; the headlights flared to life, "interesting night."

Vicki nodded as the engine purred to life and he pulled away from the front of the hotel.

"Yes. Interesting indeed. Is Mr. Wayne always so charming?" She asked, with a small laugh.

"I hope not." Eddie replied as he flicked on his turn signal and pulled out of the parking lot and into Gotham's streets. "That was the first time I had ever really met the man. I think he likes me, don't you? Maybe he and I can get some friendship bracelets, matching tattoos in a couple years. What do you think? I got a chance, maybe? I could bake him some cookies. Chocolate chip, of course."

He was smiling, and that made Vicki smile, despite the fact her head was pounding.

"Bake me cookies and I'll be your new best friend." She replied with a laugh as she discreetly glanced into her purse at her phone, "Do you have any tattoos? I'd ask if you had any friendship bracelets, but that isn't nearly as exciting."

"A couple." Eddie replied

"Oooh, really?" she slid her phone out and began to text with only her right hand; her left was still trying to rid herself of the headache, "You're going to have to show me soon."

"No, Vicki, dear, you're going to have to find them."

"I'm usually up for a challenge." The car rolled to a stop at a red light. Eddie turned to face her.

"Up for one tonight? I could take you back to my apartment-" he trailed off, and his right hand trailed over to rest on her thigh. Vicki looked down, and slid her leg out of his reach.

"Not tonight."

The light turned green.

The car didn't move.

"Is this about what Wayne said?" Eddie asked. The exasperation in his voice was not hidden well.

"No." Vicki replied, eyes narrowing, "No, this has nothing to do with Wayne. I have plans with Kate tonight; I'm not going to bail out on her."

The car behind them honked.

"Are you sure? This has nothing to do with Wayne being an uncouth drunk and insinuating I am simply trying to bed you?"

They didn't move.

"No." Vicki replied again sternly, brining her left hand down to rest on her knees, so she could brush off his hand if it came back. "I make my own decisions. I'm not letting some intoxicated trust fund baby dictate my sex life. That's for me and me alone to decide."

The light turned red again.

"Alright," Eddie said slowly, both his hands now on the steering wheel, "I am sorry, dear."

The car behind them laid down on their horn.

This was doing wonder for her growing headache.

"It's alright, Eddie."

The light turned green.

They moved.

Vicki sighed quietly, and thought of how drunk Wayne had been before he and Kate had left. She leaned her head against the cool glass of the window and wondered if Bruce Wayne had passed out by now yet.

* * *

Batman peered around a shelf, seeing the 'Ventriloquist' looking around for him. He glanced at the gun and noticed that the dummy's hands were merely stuck to it, the Ventriloquist was the one actually holding it in a way to fire it. Batman wondered if he even knew that he was actually the one pulling the trigger, or if in his mind it was all 'Scarface's doing.

Batman suspected the latter, and if that was true then he knew there was only one way to end this. As he pulled out a batarang, he neglected to wonder how he managed to pull off the trick with the lights. But as he suddenly felt a large hand gripping his wounded shoulder, the answer was pretty clear.

Suddenly, Batman was thrown backwards, sliding across the ground before rolling into a crouch. He looked up to see a very large man, about six foot seven if not taller, and all muscle walking towards him.

"Yeah, Rhino! Rip his freakin' head off!" 'Scarface' yelled out in excitement, as the Ventriloquist cringed and looked as though he wanted to hide.

"Rhino..?" Batman muttered to himself, really starting to hate these people.

Rhino ran up to Batman, and began throwing a series of swings at his head, but he managed to duck and weave around them. Batman sent a powerful elbow shot into Rhino's gut, before pulling back and sending a strong uppercut into his jaw. Rhino stumbled back slightly, rubbed his jaw, and came right back at him as if it had just been a small slap. Batman swung at him again, but this time Rhino caught it with his forearm and countered with a straight from his other fist. Batman stumbled back from the incredible hit, and couldn't react in time when Rhino struck him with a right cross, an elbow to the shoulder-neck joint, and then grabbed him by the shoulders to smash him into a large crate on one of the shelves.

Before Batman could even think, Rhino wrapped his hands around his neck and began to squeeze as hard as possible. Batman gasped for breath, teeth grinding as he tried to pull the man's hands away from his throat. The large man much stronger and he was having little luck. He needed a new plan. The world was starting to get a bit fuzzy.

He let go, and swiped his forearms against Rhino's . The blades on his gauntlets slashed into the man's skin on both arms. He yelled out as he pulled his arms away to cover the bleeding wounds. Batman began coughing and gagged sharply as he took in all the air he could. He quickly got back to his feet. Blood was still dripping from the blades of his gauntlets as he sent a strong fist across Rhino's jaw. Before he could recover from that blow, Batman rammed Rhino in the gut with his shoulder as hard as he could. They both smashed into one of the shelves roughly. Batman suddenly jumped up, letting the back of his head slam into Rhino's jaw.

Batman pulled back to deliver another blow, but just then Rhino grabbed a piece of wooden crate that had broken off in the fight, and jammed it into the bullet wound in his shoulder.

Batman let out a pain-filled growl. Distracted, he didn't react in time when Rhino grabbed him by the shoulders, and slammed him into the shelf. After hitting the floor, Batman felt a powerful kick slam into his ribs, even the protection of his armor only cushioned it slightly. He was then shoved away, rolling across the floor as Rhino prepared for his next move. Batman pushed himself back up to his feet as he gripped his side, looking up in time to see Rhino burst into a run right at him. He knew he couldn't take a direct hit like that from him; he had a new plan.

When Rhino got close, Batman jumped to the side suddenly, kicked off from one of the shelves, and landed on Rhino's back. He gripped his arms tightly around his neck, and pulled him down to his knees in a choke hold. Batman started applying pressure trying to cut off the air supply, but Rhino wasn't going down easily. He began swinging his arms around, catching Batman in the face with few wild blows. Batman slammed his elbow down into Rhino's collar, followed by two more in quick succession.

After taking a few more hits, however, Batman let go and pulled back, realizing that wasn't going to work. Rhino quickly stood up, and sent a straight punch right at Batman's face, only to be dodged and caught in an arm-lock. Batman held his arm as tightly as possible, before slamming his head into Rhino's face. Then he thrust his knee into his stomach three times, feeling Rhino's strength dwindling. Finally when he was weak from all the damage, Batman twisted around, and thrust Rhino's upper half downward, slamming his forehead into a metal shelf so hard that the whole shelf shook. Rhino's unconscious body quickly fell to the floor, leaving Batman to hunch over and try to regain his composure.

"Damn it! I guess I gotta do everything around here!" Scarface yelled, and the next thing Batman knew a flurry of bullets were flying towards him. Batman quickly rolled to the right, pulling out a batarang, and slinging it right at them. The batarang stabbed right into the Scarface dummy's shoulder, sending it, along with the Uzi, flying out of the Ventriloquist's hands.

"Oh my God! Hold on, I'll get you!" The Ventriloquist yelled as he ran towards his fallen dummy. But, just as he got close, a thin wire wrapped around his ankles and pulled him to the floor, face first. Batman stood behind him with his grappling gun, just a bit shocked that this actually worked.

"I can't make it. I'm sorry, Sir. But, but you have to go on without me..." Ventriloquist weakly told his dummy, his glasses shattered and nose bleeding from the fall.

"....Why the hell did I have to get stuck with a dumb ass like you?" Scarface's voice muttered; even when he was being controlled, 'Scarface' was still the boss.

* * *

Commissioner James Gordon leaned against a door frame leading into the office next to the warehouse, watching as the would-be thieves were hauled out to the police van waiting for them outside. His eyes instantly locked onto the older, nervous-looking man who seemed so out of place here.

"STOP! You can't put him in there! He won't be able to breathe!" The Ventriloquist yelled at a cop who was placing the Scarface dummy into a large plastic evidence bag. The cop looked over at Gordon nervously, to which he responded with a shrug of the shoulders.

"You heard the man." Gordon told him with a smirk, before stepping outside for some fresh air. He walked towards the end of the building, leaning his back against the wall just next to the corner outside. He let out a deep breath, shaking his head in amazement.

"His name is Arnold Wesker; former inmate at Arkham committed for manslaughter, though he claims it was 'Scarface' who did it not him." Gordon said aloud, apparently to nobody. "I tell ya, they're getting weirder all the time."

"Escalation." Batman replied, standing on the other side of the corner of the building, just out of view of the other police. If Gordon were to turn around, the blood still coming from his shoulder would have looked black under the yellow light from the distant street lamps.

"Dissociative Identity Disorder, then" Batman stated, "but I've never seen it present like this before. Apparently 'Scarface' was the dominant personality, but Scarface had to be controlled by Wesker to accomplish anything."

"Oh I'm sure the doctors at Arkham just loved this guy." Gordon shook his head, and idly wondered how he even managed to be surprised by this sort of thing anymore. Gotham was getting odder by the hour.

"He's not what I need to talk to you about. What do your people have on Riddler?" Batman asked.

"Isn't everyone supposed to be calling him Jack the Riddler?" Gordon asked.

"Jack the Ripper never got caught; this guy won't be so lucky." Batman corrected.

"Well, nothing really." Gordon began, " Just what you probably already have; it's a male, probably around five foot ten or five foot eleven- 180 pounds or so, who likes leaving clues for his victims and us. This guy is smart. Still haven't figured out a damn one of his letters. You have any leads?"

"I'm working on a couple. But I need to be able to see those letters to get a better idea of what we're facing."

"I think I was right on the same page this time." Gordon commented with a smile, discreetly handing Batman a small USB device. "We copied all the letters into the database, and I thought they wouldn't mind if I copied a few myself."

"Dangerous." Batman said simply, taking the flash drive.

"That's what being a cop is all about, right? Just don't go handing that around; I'm just sort of getting used to the whole Commissioner thing." Gordon smirked, but it quickly faded. "Do you really think we're going to catch this one? Something seems different about him. He doesn't leave us anything he doesn't want seen."

"He'll make a mistake. They always do. When he does, we'll be there to make him regret it."

"I hope you're right," Gordon stood there for a moment, before glancing around the corner, seeing nobody there.

"Who am I kidding? You always are."

* * *

Eddie walked her to the door, despite the fact she had told him it wasn't necessary. He said something about being a gentleman and came with her anyway.

"Think she's awake?" Eddie asked. Vicki shrugged in response and reached into her purse.

"I have my own key." Eddie raised an eyebrow in response, so Vicki elaborated, "She lives closer to my office, so I crash here a lot. It's a big apartment and she broke up with someone awhile ago. She's been living alone, and doesn't like it."

"You two are awfully close," Eddie stated idly.

"Yes," Vicki replied, inserting her key into the door handle, "I suppose we are."

She kissed him goodnight and shut the door when he turned to leave. Kate was in her pajamas and asleep on the couch when she entered, so she slid off her heels, stripped off the dress and set it delicately on the wingbacked chair, and headed into the kitchen to grab a glass of water and something for her headache. An aspirin or an ibuprofen or something, whatever she could find first.

Taking three 200mg pills of the first painkiller she had found, she slid them on her tongue, and took a gulp of water. She stood in the kitchen for a while longer, her feet bare on the cold kitchen tile. She stared out the window of Kate's apartment over the vast expanse of the glittering city before her.

She _really _didn't get this city.

It would be a gift to be able to go home again soon. Too bad there weren't any masked vigilantes on the west coast to report on; she missed it there.

* * *

Thanks for reading! So could you all do us a favor and review? Since it's been so long , we're not sure about the retention rate. It looks like a lot of people are putting us on alert, but it would be fantastic if you could review too! Just a quick "Still reading! :)" would rock. You could just copy and paste that directly if you want. Haha.

Once again, thank you for reading, and please review! :D


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